Page 21 of Courting War
But they did not ignore her.
Theo glowered, and he glared right back before he nodded, and three massive, uniformed men charged. One tried to grab her arm, but she wriggled out of his reach, uppercutting him in the jaw.
He staggered back, shocked. The other two men shifted their stances and prepared for a fight.
Theo shook her hand, a sharp pain rippling from the blow she landed. But within seconds, the two warriors were on her. She twirled away, but one caught her in the cheek.
Theo cursed, sharp agony spreading through her face.
She sucked in a pained breath and slammed her elbow into the nose of the attacker while simultaneously kicking the third, who’d charged again. He teetered and crashed into the wooden deck. Only one remained standing, but she feigned a punch before she let him get his bearings.
He dodged, positioning himself in the path of her knee. Clutching his jewels, he crumpled to the ground.
All three warriors were successfully felled.
Unfortunately for Theo, seven more noticed the brawl and joined the first three as they slowly got to their feet. Theo was outmatched and oh-so-frustratingly weak.
A metallic taste filled her mouth, and she realized she’d bit down hard on her tongue during the fight.
Blood dripped from both a split lip and her mouth.
Momentarily distracted by her mortality, one warrior struck her core, causing air to rush out of her lungs, and a second man landed a blow to her shoulder.
She clutched her knees, embers of pain ripping through her.
Theodra was one girl—one mortal girl—against ten of the best-trained Theoden warriors. She was the greatest fighterof all time, but without a weapon, with human pain, trapped in a loose dress, and without knowing her body—its strengths, weaknesses—Theo wasn’t a match for these men. She was inferior. Pathetic.
The hairs on her arms rose as Dahlia, the raven tattoo, croaked a warning slightly before an eerie light split the dawn. Everyone froze.
A cruel cackle boomed through the docks, magnified by magic.
Theo pinched her eyes, an anchor of dread dropping in her stomach. Her burning breaths grew stilted. There was no need to turn around and see the devil hovering behind her. Her soul recognized her sister merely by proximity.
“Ah, thank you for finding her for me. Gentlemen, I will take it from here.” Death’s voice was a promise of unrelenting torture.
Chapter Seven
THEODRA
Goddess of War
Human of War?
Extremely Enraged Ex-God
PORT OF NEFELI, CITY OF THE GODS
An eerie fog drifted around Havyn dancing pirouettes like in the finale of a grand ballet. It cast her in ominous shadows and clung around her like a bride’s virginity veil. Acorpse bride’svirginity veil—perfect for Death.
Theo rolled her eyes. Havyn was a preening peacock. The overstated, overindulgent, grandiose narcissist required her every appearance in front of a crowd to be a show.
For all death was a show.
Shadows flaked and rained down her body like rotten tears. She wore an A-line skirt formed from liquid moonstone, and her hair flowed down her back like cascading spilled ink. She was beauty and terror laced into one tapestry.
Theo rolled her shoulders back and held her head high. “Death.”
“Priestess.” An insidious smile curled on Havyn’s lips.
